


Sweet Things

by daggersandribbons



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley really does have a heart, Date Night, Desserts, Disgusting Amounts of Affection, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 19:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19183966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daggersandribbons/pseuds/daggersandribbons
Summary: Crowley surprises Aziraphale with a dessert date





	Sweet Things

One of Aziraphales favorite things about humanity was the cuisine. From nettle pudding to zoodles, he was always eager to try what humans made next.

Rinsing the PVA glue from his brushes, the angel had spent all morning repairing some books he’d found for quite a bargain at a library sale. The little bell above the shops door rang as Crowley stepped in. 

“Just one moment!” Aziraphale called out as he quickly rinsed his hands and headed into the shop. 

“Terribly sorry for the wait- oh, good afternoon Crowley,” He greeted cheerfully. 

“Ello angel, what would it take for you to close up shop and join me on a little rendezvous?” Crowley asked. 

“That depends, will I enjoy this? It won’t be like the last time will it?” Aziraphale was cautious of any rendezvous Crowley had planned. He had good intentions at heart, a trip to a nearby winery for a wine and cheese taste test. Three glasses in and Aziraphale had wandered away to help a hurt bird, leaving Crowley alone to overhear a waiter call his angel tubby. In the demons defense, he did keep his cool until the group of employees began gossiping about Aziraphale and making assumptions that simply weren’t true. 

_“Bet he’s paying that man in the sunglasses to be here.”_

_“Why do you think he’s in sunglasses? Probably too ashamed to be seen with such a weirdo. Maybe you tell him to cough twice and we’ll call the cops for him.”_

Both men were banned from that winery shortly after and Crowley refused to disclose what happened leading up to the table being flipped. 

“You’ll like it, I promise. Would you be further persuaded if you knew that it involves trendy new desserts?” Crowley asked. He adored the way Aziraphales head tilted like a puppy dogs when he heard something that excited him. 

“But that place has been booked for weeks, I should know I’ve tried twice to get a reservation. How did you get one?” 

“Turns out the head chef is a huge fan, who would’ve thought? When I popped in to make a reservation the staff was more than accommodating and offered me a reservation! So Mr. and Mrs. Crowley have a table awaiting them for a reservation time in twe-“ Crowley looked down at his watch “-nineteen minutes.”

Hand in hand the ineffable husbands approached the Bentley. Aziraphale snuck a small kiss onto Crowley’s shoulder before heading to the other side of the vehicle. Once inside, the angel gently snatched the glasses from Crowley’s face and planting a kiss on his lips when he turned. 

The restaurant was called Lens and was said to be the premier dessert bar in London. Truthfully Crowley didn’t understand the excitement, but it made his angel happy (and he hoped bar meant alcohol would be served). He would’ve preferred a whiskey on the rocks, but an Irish coffee would suffice. Their tasting menu experience began with a square of ruby chocolate apiece. 

“So it’s chocolate? They sell that at the corner shop.” The demon inquired, picking the square up and popping it into his mouth while his counterpart nibbled at it like a mouse. 

“It’s supposed to be the newest natural chocolate flavor since white and it’s rumored to have a fruity flavor despite no added flavoring.” 

“You really have done your research haven’t you angel?” 

“Is that so bad?” Aziraphale questioned. 

“Absolutely not, it’s incredibly endearing.” 

The next course was served in a plant pot. Layers of soft cheesecake, earl grey milk tea, and chocolate wafer crumbles with raspberry sorbet on the side. On the top of the dish sat an edible flower. Aziraphale marveled at the contrast of flavors, almost forgetting that he hadn’t offered to share some of this delightful treat. 

“Would you like a taste? It’s really not fair if I have it all to myself.” He offered before taking another spoonful into his mouth. The tea sauce dripped onto his mouth and before he could reach for a napkin, Crowley licked it away with his forked tongue then leaned in for a kiss. Aziraphale had never previously seen the appeal in kissing someone, what could possibly be so romantic about pressing one mouth to another? That opinion changed the first time Crowley kissed him.

If you asked Crowley he’d say that Aziraphale had made the first move, but the angel says that simply wasn’t true. Multiple bottles of wine had been opened and emptied at an almost alarming pace. A playlist of all of the demons favorite tunes was their background noise as a drunk Aziraphale tripped over his own two feet and onto fiery haired male who was lounging on the couch. It’s really anybody’s guess who kissed who first. 

The third course was profiteroles with a warm caramel ganache and a cool blueberry/strawberry sauce. Crowley sipped on his second coffee as he lovingly watched his angel. It made him pleased as punch to see Aziraphale in such a joyful state. Amongst the sweet scents in the room he could smell the approaching scent of rain so he dashed out to make sure his windows were rolled up. Couldn’t have the Bentley’s seats getting wet, that’d be a sin and not the good kind.

As a waiter came to top off their waters, Aziraphale gave him a kind smile. 

“Excuse me sir, who would I go about speaking to so I could thank them for offering us a table today? I know this place is quite popular.”

The waiter looked confused, a same day reservation was reserved for people who were royalty or equivalent and the staff would all be informed. Excusing himself momentarily to have a quick conversation with the manager, he returned with the record book. 

“We didn’t offer anyone a same day reservation, however it is in our records that a Mister Crowley paid a considerable amount of money for one.” He informed, showing Aziraphale the page. A small grin fell onto his lips and only grew as he watched the now damp demon approach the table. 

“I go out there and a damn downpour starts...why’ve you got that look on your face?” Crowley asked. The waiter watched from the corner of his eye as he began to clean a nearby table. 

“Oh my dear Crowley, you really are kind.” Aziraphale replied. As much as Crowley wanted to argue that sentiment, the look in his lovers eyes was greater than his demon credibility. 

“What would compel you to say such a thing?” He questioned. As far as he was aware no interaction had occurred between man in the bowtie and the waiter beyond their waters being filled. Rather than answering, Aziraphale pulled him into a hug before he had the chance to sit. Crowley would never say this, but he adored the scent of his angel. Angels had a very clean scent similar to freshly washed clothing, but the bergamot notes in Aziraphales cologne made him smell extra comforting. 

An expression the humans liked to use to describe something comforting was “reminds me of home”. Technically for him home was Hell and that was anything but comforting, but after 6,000 years he’d grown to find that the curly haired male reminded him of home. 

The final dessert was the one most up Crowley’s alley. A Dutch chocolate cake soaked in whiskey with layers of dark chocolate ganache and topped with the same ganache, cherry compote, and chocolate shavings. Aziraphale marveled at the dessert like a child on Christmas. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the chance to try something so...”

“Sinful?”

“I was going to say decadent.”

“One in the same.”

“Alright then, might I tempt you with some then? You look so lovely after being...tempted.” Crowley hoped to tempt Zira into activities a little more sinful once they returned to his flat. With a smirk, the angel wrapped his lips around the fork. 

The small moan that came from his throat was completely innocent but it gave Crowley nothing but impure thoughts. He wanted to slither across the table and give a new definition to _he has a python in his pants._ Instead he decides to take a bite of the cake himself to taste it. Now this is what he believed all human food should be: decadent, scandalous, fun. This was a dish they would both definitely order again. 

Aziraphale couldn’t eat another crumb, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t drink. Crowley switched to coffee sans whiskey while the other had a spiked cocoa.

“Crowley...” the angel murmured as he leaned in. “I’d like to be in bed with you now.” 

Amongst the usual London foot traffic near Lens’, a slightly drunk demon and a significantly more food drunk angel headed down the pavement to their ride. 

Crowley’s flat, while nothing physically had changed, had a different energy since Aziraphale started coming around. The plants certainly appreciated him, they got scolded a lot less when their owner was too invested in spending time tangled up in bed with his angel. But plants were tricky things, and being grateful didn’t mean they wouldn’t die. 

Aziraphale walked past the plants on the way to the bedroom. A dried up leaf crunched under his sock covered foot and he let out a groan. Call him selfish, but he wasn’t in the mood to hear Crowley lecture the plants...so maybe a small miracle wouldn’t hurt. So he brought the plant back to life, healing a dry spot on another plant too just to be cautious. Once in the bedroom, his usual bowtie and suit were swapped for blue fuzzy pajama bottoms with white clouds and a weathered Queen tee shirt. Prior to courting Crowley, Aziraphale rarely slept and when he did he wore a night gown. The new pajamas were a gift from the demon, he had seen the pants while shopping for new socks and the shirt? Well now that was something he’d admit was a selfish purchase. Anthony J. Crowley truly just wanted to see his favorite beings in merchandise for one of his favorite bands. 

While angels were about modesty, demons didn’t care. Aziraphale had a queen bed with cotton sheets and a quilted comforter, Crowley on the other hand had a California King bed with black silk sheets and a black chenille comforter. The heavenly man sank into bed and let out a big yawn. 

Crowley’s choice in pajamas was a little more simple: his boxers and occasionally a shirt if he got cold. Hell was uncomfortably hot, but not unbearable. Overheating could kill, but making someone uncomfortable before torturing them would make the torture that much worse. Given that knowledge, it was possible for a demon to become chilly if they spent enough time in a cool area. Even though Crowley kept his room cool, he stayed warm with his personal space heater beside him named Aziraphale. The angel was always so soft and warm like a teddy bear fresh out of the dryer. 

Once they were both in bed, Aziraphale turned to face Crowley. He was like a big toddler fighting sleep, his eyes wide and blinking slowly. 

“Sleep, angel.” Crowley murmured. 

“Nah tired.” Aziraphale yawned, he wanted something and the demon knew it. 

“Do you want to be the big spoon or the little?” The demon inquired, but his partner turning his back to him was all the answer he needed. Though Crowley enjoyed all the attention he got from his angel, he didn’t mind being the spooner rather than the spooned. This way he got to breathe in the alluring angel scent and be pressed up against his cute rear. 

Pressing a kiss to Aziraphales earlobe, Crowley chuckled.

“And we’ll talk about you miracle-ing my plant back to life in the morning, naughty angel.”

Aziraphale only sighed happily, drifting too far into dream land to process what was said at an angelic pace. After a few moments of silence it finally clicked, and he craned his neck to look into Crowley’s serpent eyes. 

“Not naughty.” He replied matter of factly before turning his head back. 

“Yes I know, you’re a good angel. Hell, you’re probably the only good angel left.” Crowley murmured, lazily running his fingers through Aziraphales curls. He knew a song would lull his angel into dreamland, so he decided to croon some good ole bebop. 

“White light, White light goin' messin' up my brain. White light, Aww white light its gonna drive me insane. White heat, Aww white heat it tickle me down to my toes. White light, Aww white light I said now goodness knows, do it.” 

Aziraphale didn’t know this, as he had slept alone for all of those years, but he had a habit of talking in his sleep; and though Crowley preferred complete silence when he slept, he found the ramblings to be quite endearing. If awake Aziraphale was a cup of sugar, asleep Aziraphale was a whole quart. 

“Crowley, you’re so handsome. I’m so glad only your skilled hands have touched my body and oh how soooo skilled they are.” He mumbled. There was no use in answering (beside inflation to an already large ego) but Crowley did almost every time. 

“Glad you think so angel, because I adore touching your beautiful body. You’re better than any drug.” Crowley couldn’t personally be thanked for the creation of the modern drug world, for that other demons were to blame, but he had tried a few and nothing compared to how Aziraphale made him feel. 

All romantic niceties aside, Crowley was still a demon. So when the words _I love you_ came up he still had a problem saying it back. In all of his years, the demon had never loved a living thing. He liked his plants, he liked Freddie Mercury, but the only thing he had felt love for was his car and he’d never been prompted to tell it so. It really didn’t matter to the angel that Crowley hadn’t said the exact words because to him actions spoke louder than words, and subsequently the way the demon made sure Aziraphale was properly tucked into bed before putting his eye mask on and turning the light off with a snap. 

When the morning came, as is it did every day, Aziraphale would make some coffee and cocoa and they’d start off the day by sharing the newspaper. But that was the morning. For now they slept, an angel curled up in a demons arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! This was my first non-Nygmobblepot fic since I started writing again so I was really nervous to put this out.


End file.
